Three Takes On Man Versus The Sea

Our next Cornwall road trip explores three very different elements of man’s relationship with the sea – in fact it’s hard to imagine three more disparate aspects than the three we explore on this single day. Our first destination is the delightfully attractive town of……

MOUSEHOLE

To UK inhabitants of a certain age, the very word “Penlee” still stirs the memory of an awful disaster which took the lives of those trying to save others. On December 19th 1981, the Penlee lifeboat was scrambled to assist the stricken Union Star, a bulk freight vessel on its maiden commercial voyage from the Netherlands to Ireland, which had suffered engine failure in appalling weather. On board was a crew of five and three members of the captain’s family who had been picked up unauthorised on the Essex coast.

The Solomon Browne, the lifeboat based at Penlee, Mousehole, set out in force 12 winds, conditions so bad that coxswain Trevelyan Richards chose his crew carefully so as to avoid taking two members of any one family. These heroes of our shores came alongside the Union Star, and radioed that four people had been “safely” lifted on to the Solomon Browne, after which came a sudden radio silence. There was no mayday call, no further contact. Just silence. The lifeboat, and the Union Star, had both sunk with no survivors; eight lifeboatmen, all from Mousehole, had lost their lives saving others, just six days before Christmas.

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Today we track down the modest memorial on the site of the old lifeboat house, and pay our respects. Actually the memorial isn’t the only legacy in the town, but is a sobering reminder of the power of the sea. It remains an anathema that such a priceless and indispensable organisation as the RNLI is funded entirely by donations even today.

Mousehole is yet another gorgeous harbour town, clustered behind the sea walls and looking right across Mounts Bay where St Michaels Mount looms above the distant waters several miles away. Its tiny narrow streets lead steeply up and away from the sea in the style which is so common to these picturesque Cornwall villages. 

Compact cottages squeeze shoulder to shoulder in these tight alleys, but look closely and you notice that some of the larger properties have names which betray their history….”The Old Pilchard Works”; “The Old Chandlery”. The Ship Inn, whose 1981 publican was one of the lost lifeboat crew, is preening itself for post-COVID reopening on Monday, and it has to be mentioned that we have one of the best pasties of the entire trip from the little bakery nestled among the cottages before we move on to…..

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NEWLYN

These days virtually a suburb of Penzance, Newlyn has long been famed as Cornwall’s biggest fishing port and the source of quality fish which has historically found its way to the best restaurants throughout much of England, including large numbers of overnight deliveries to London, and Billingsgate Market. 

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Within the sizeable harbour much of the fishing fleet sits idle, the doors of the fish market are closed and all is quiet. Maybe it’s because it’s Saturday, or maybe it’s because it’s early afternoon, but the often manic activity of a fishing port is conspicuous by its absence today. Rather poignantly, the two modern day lifeboats also sit in dock, waiting for their next life saving mission and their next gamble with danger.

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So with maritime disaster and fishing heritage explored today, we move on to the third function of the Cornish coast…tourism…

ST IVES

Our first views of St Ives are from the car park way above the town, across rooftops and church towers down to the beach and over to the clifftop chapel perched on the opposite headland at the other end of town. The car park is busy, the town looks lively even from up here.

Once down the calf-stretching descent to the town itself, our first impressions prove to be correct and the streets of St Ives are bustling and lively. This is clearly a resort, more so than anywhere we’ve seen on this trip (bear in mind we haven’t visited Newquay). Bars line the seafront, cafes, restaurants and takeaways fill the gaps between bars, every table at every bar seems to be taken. 

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We have arrived at low tide, so most of the large tidal beach within the harbour walls is exposed, and is temporary home to walkers, sport playing families, picnickers and even some bathers in what must be a desperately cold Atlantic. It’s easy to picture St Ives in a normal high season: this place must be absolutely thronged on a summer’s day, such is the huge number of hospitality locations, not to mention souvenir shops, jewellers and the like nestled in the streets behind the seafront. 

Never mind that it’s a resort, never mind that it’s living is the tourist trade, the lovely sweeping bay shaped waterfront is attractive and the vibe of the town is fun filled without ever being close to tacky. We like it.

And so today we have seen three very different seaside tales, each individually an essential part of Cornwall and its history. Maritime disaster, the fishing industry and tourism: the result is three very different towns each with a very different character, yet all very much part of what makes Cornwall such a stimulating and interesting county.

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